


Hallucinations and Cackles

by BatsuGames



Category: Vampire: The Masquerade, Vampire: The Masquerade – Bloodlines (Video Game)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Doggy Style, Don’t copy to another site, Driver is Caine, F/M, Flirting, Golconda, Healing, Oral Sex, Powerful Characters, Ravnos, Riding, Rough Oral Sex, Salubri, falling in love quickly, fast burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-12
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2020-05-01 20:06:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19184686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BatsuGames/pseuds/BatsuGames
Summary: .Penelope has just been Embraced, and wobbles out to meet Jack, who takes an overwhelming and particular liking to the fledgling.





	1. After the Show Comes the Script

**Author's Note:**

> Something that wouldn't leave my mind was Smiling Jack and the fledgling. So, here it is.
> 
> Please enjoy!
> 
> (Title will change when I can think of something so much better.)
> 
> I'm trying to greaten the amount of VtMB fics there are on ao3, so if you want to see more from me, consider a click of the button on the kudos to let me know you want more! If not, I'll probably just keep these fics to myself for my own enjoyment.

 

* * *

 

 

Penelope stepped out of the theatre, feeling a bit woozy from all that had happened.

 

Did she really turn into a vampire?

 

Did she really just survive by the skin of her teeth?

 

Granted, she had that guy in the blue shirt to thank, because Prince LaCroix was _definitely_ going to murder her simply for living, but holy fucking _shit_. Staring at the wall opposite on the stairs leading to some back alley, she breathed out haggardly and slumped down on the steps. She ignored the man laughing to her left, coming over, saying something about ropes. It’s only when he came closer, she lifted her head and simply hugged him.

 

“Ahhh, kid, I don’t do this mushy crap-” He cut off when her arms tightened. Then he snorted, awkwardly patting her on the shoulder. “Fine, fine. Christ.” At least she smelt good, all oranges and shit, and killer body too. Maybe not so bad then.

 

She took a few more seconds before looking up, chin laying on his bared torso, chest-hair ruffling her jawline. “How do you not know how to hug? You’re how old?”

 

He scoffed and snapped out, “Hey! I-”

 

“Don’t do this mushy crap, yes,” Penelope drawled out, letting go of him to smirk up at the man, getting back into reality after a little sobbing moment by the playful teasing. “Cranky?”

 

He grumbled a little. “You want help or not?”

 

“I’d be grateful,” She murmured, not yet moving back as she put her hands behind her back.

 

His brown eyes roamed her face, taking to get a gage on her. “Right.” His eyes squinted. “Hey. You look _wobbly_ , you even had a drink yet?”

 

“Mate, I woke up after shit sex just to get stabbed and dragged here. My fangs literally just popped out a minute ago. You’re gonna have to roll out the basic stuff for me.” Penelope grimaced as he cackled at her misfortune. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. What do I have to know?”

 

“Alright, kid, we’re kindred, that’s our name for vampire, and we drink on kine. Yeah, humans. Now, there’s some dumbass down the way. Poor son of a bitch can’t find his car!” The man gave a low giggle, something that made her lips twitch. “So you creep up on him, real silent like, and let them fangs of yours do all the work. Don’t worry, sweetheart, it’ll be like you did it a thousand times.”

 

Idly, the blonde tongued her lengthy canine and eyed the area, figuring her victim must be around the corner. “How’d you know he was there?”

 

“Heh. Your senses still ain’t kicked in? Damn, they really did just throw you out.” He snickered at her, eyeballing her tongue with interest.

 

“Yup. What’s your name anyway?” She asked absently, tilting her head and focusing on trying to listen. There… she could hear heartbeats. Her eyes widened, and she grinned. “Oh!”

 

The man gave her a grin. “Finally heard it, ah? Name’s Jack. How many?”

 

“Oh gosh,” She murmured. Her eyes flickered about, whispering to herself, “One, two… seven… about fourteen? Oh and someone’s getting out of a car.” She focused harder. “Oh, that’s aggressive sounding.” Her shoulders went up, and some animalistic spitting hiss came out from her and she heard familiar other sounds.

 

Jack frowned at her sharply. “What’re you hearing kid?”

 

“Dead carrying guns.” Her body jumped at whoops of gleeful delight and ricocheting gun shots. Fear entered her, having never dealt with guns before. Hell, the closest she’d gotten to guns was when they were in museums and about a hundred years old at the least. But she did have one incident of some turf war happening a block from her a week ago after a gig. Barely came near her but was still disarming.

 

Feeling a twinge of sympathy for the fledgling, he pushed her by the shoulder to the door next to them. He idly noted she was small and felt good when he muttered, “Get inside. I’ll see what this is about.”

 

Penelope nodded and went inside, flickering her eyes about. Some sort of car repair shop? She shook her head, noting some large leather brown jacket with pockets, and though she wasn’t cold, it’d look strange to be out at night without one. California might not be that cold compared to her homeland of England, but it still had its days. Surprising how little she felt the weather now, thinking about it. She checked the pockets, finding nothing but a half pack of gum and some one-dollar bills and a switchblade, and tugged it on. She couldn’t help it, for some reason, she liked it, so she took it. Pausing at that weirdness, she shook her head to deal with that later and spotted a doorway up the top that looked over the car lift thingies.

 

But… she pursed her lips at having to climb because there was no proper stairway up. Why? A huff of annoyance, and she clambered up some shelving and spotting a lockpick set, yoinking it into her large men’s jacket which happily had plenty of pockets.

 

Jack was there, turning the corner. “New threads?”

 

Idly, she put a protective hand to it, feeling defensive about _needing_ it for no real reason she could give. “Maybe. What’s happening, Jack?” For some reason, he eyed her at that and she felt a bit unusual at his stare. “What?”

 

He wasn’t about to tell her she was cute when she looked up at him like that, all wide-eyed doe-shit. “Hmph. Just some Sabbat fucks. Christ, I was hopin’ to spare you this shit until later.” She looked out the window, biting her lip. He grasped her hand and pulled her back. “Stay away from the window. Shit, there they are.”

 

Penelope sucked in a breath at how elongated Sabbat arms were, and the fact that Sheriff had come back to take care of the riff-raff with ease.

 

Jack eyed her from the corner of his eye. He wondered how long this one would last. She wasn’t just green, she was _soft_. Soft didn’t last long out here in Los Angeles. It made him want to snort. But maybe some small, teensy-weensy part of him maybe wanted to see her live a bit longer. If only for a month or so. It was rare to have soft with these cutthroat bastards around. It was _nice_ to have it around. And alright. He was feeling a little protective. He’d seen her at a jazz club crooning some tunes to an audience, radiating femininity and seduction in a hot little flapper number during a time he was off to feed. Be a shame for that to go so soon.

 

He looked down her body, appreciating the curves, lifting his gaze up to the rosy pink of her lips being lightly bitten in anxiousness and liking the feel of silky skin of her wrist under his hand he’d yet to let go of.

 

Alright.

 

Maybe he had other reasons for wanting her to stick around.

 

So what?

 

She was a tight little number he’d like to keep around.

 

Ain’t nothin’ wrong with that.

 

“You go ahead, sweetheart. You know how to pick a lock?”

 

“No.”

 

“Ain’t no better than the present time to learn.” He passed her a lock pick, clapped her on the back and thumbed over his shoulder. He smirked at her exasperated look up at him (that was just as cute) and walked off, knowing a shortcut into the office but wanting to see what she could do. He slunk off, ready to wait a while. But not without watching her over his shoulder first, watching that ass bounce off. He smirked, liking it. Hmm, that was the good stuff.

 

Penelope was surprised at how relatively simple it was to open a door with vampire senses. _Kindred_. Kindred senses. She had to get used to that term. With the clicks sounding so loud in her ears, it was easy to determine where to shift or tilt the inside mechanisms to gain access to what was behind and locked away. She entered, feeling a bit victorious at getting one thing right.

 

Her eyes narrowed at the sight of Jack there, grinning at her. She crossed her arms, glowering. “Really?”

 

“Ah, c’mon, sweetheart, gotta see what you can do, don’t I? How else am I supposed to know what you’re good at and what you’re not?”

 

“How about asking?”

 

“True, that voice of yours sure is something,” The Brujah agreed, smirking her way. “Anyway, get used to tricky kindred politicking and trying to use you as a tool or scapegoat. It’s all these fucks like to do. But it’s a damn sight better than those Sabbat bastards.” He noted her frown at some of his coarse language, but simply shrugged it off. She’d get used to it. “Those assholes go around beating their chest and screwing up things for the rest of us. Nah, that ain’t how we live. Keep this whole thing to yourself. It keeps us alive.”

 

“Makes sense. So who’s the Prince guy, and these Sabbat guys? And what about you as well?”

 

“Ah the factions. Damn, this is a whole bunch of ass to deal with. Prince and Magilla Gorilla are Camarilla, as were most of those kindred in there. The one who saved your ass? Nines. Unofficial leader of the anarchs, everyone not Camarilla loves the guy, and even some of the Camarilla think well of him. On that activist bullshit too, though, since he grew up in the Great Depression; a bit too much for my taste but hey, we all got a thing. I’m Anarch by default cause I can’t fuckin’ stand those Sabbat shovelheads and those prissy Camarilla pricks. You’ll see more of that politic bullshit later. Anyway, look around for a way to unseal the magnetic door.”

 

So she did. “And Camarilla and Sabbat are…?” The blonde asked looking at the computer that was password locked, and then looked around for potential passwords in the area, only to raise a brow at it on a note above a safe.

 

Jack watched as she typed the code in and tapped away. “Camarilla are a group of assholes that came into the free states of Los Angeles, throwing their weight around in the name of protecting the Masquerade. That’s the name of the secret of kindred not exposin’ ‘emselves to kine. That’s their official line. Biggest sect out there in the world, and hey laws are good an’ all but what they do is bullshit. Elders having their childer do their bidding, those childer having their own to do theirs. Real load of shit. All about power. Anarch want the opposite, or close enough. Masquerade? Great. But that absolute control, and that fascist crap that almost got _you_ killed? Fuck that.” The safe clicked and swung open, and she plucked out a card. “There we go. Take the key card and head out back. I’ll meet you in the alley. I’m gonna go check things out.”

 

Watching as he peaced on out of there, she unlocked the only other door and went downstairs as he went topside.

 

Penelope opened the door at the base of the stairs, only to yelp as some vampire dusted before her. She watched in wonder as his flesh first went in a blaze of fire, then his skeleton was blackened and left over before also dispersing to the wind. She hissed as two bullets slammed into and through her thigh and… It didn’t hurt as much as she thought? Seriously, it was like someone twanged rubber bands along her leg instead of a fatal wound. She watched in awe at Jack though, seeing him utterly and literally tear through the three Sabbat like they were nothing, glowing the faintest of blues.

 

What was _that?_

 

Soon enough, he came over, sniffing for something, looking her over. “You alright, sweetheart? Fuckin’ Sabbat vatos.” He growled a little at the holes. “Those potholes will fix up though.” He gestured to her shot leg.

 

Penelope rose her eyes to him, incredulous. “It barely hurt. Itch more than anything? This is kindred?”

 

“An itch? That it? Should at least be a bolt of pain. Not itch. Sounds like Fortitude. Huh. Guess you ain’t Toreador like I thought. Ventrue? That Prince say anything to you about sharing a Clan?” He eyed her, looking for more damage.

 

“No. Is that a thing? Clans?”

 

“Hell yeah. All go their powers and weaknesses. What’s your sire look like? Stuck-up? Animalistic? Obsessed with something?”

 

“Uh… I’m guessing Clans may also be place specific?” Penelope hazarded a guess. “He was Indian?”

 

“No fucking way! A Ravnos? He had a cross symbol on his body anywhere?”

 

Her eyes lit up and she pointed at him. “Yes!”

 

The Brujah laughed at that in his wheezy fashion. “Hahaha! Oh, sweetheart, I don’t know whether to high-five you on a rare set of skills or pity ya. Barely any Ravnos left. They got Fortitude, Animalism and Chimerstry Disciplines. First two? Great, there’s people around and hell, I can get ya working on Fortitude abilities. Gonna have to find a Gangrel or Nosferatu for Animalism. Don’t know who the hell could teach you illusions around these parts. Think most of them fled from India to Europe or South America after some nightmare week. But they’re rare, and more still, hidin’.”

 

“Oh…” She replied softly. “I’ll figure it out later. Thank you, Jack.”

 

Mm. He liked how those words fell from her mouth. His name sounded real sweet coming from her, looking up at him all doe eyed and shit with those hazel eyes and that little vulnerable smile.

 

Ah fuck.

 

He was sweet on her.

 

“Listen, I smell some old kine, go feed and get those wounds healed up. Yeah, ain’t gonna do much for you cause good blood from a healthy person is like finest wine you can get, but it’ll do. Go.” He nodded, crossing his arms. As she went, he tailed her, wanting to see her first feed, and stop her from frenzying, if necessary. She seemed too gentle for frenzying, but first blood was a heady thing. He watched tensely as she seemed to silently go into the shadows, leather jacket blending with the drab brown brick walls and she pounced. It was a beautiful thing, seeing those little points dig in, making blood want to suddenly flow down as she suckled. He groaned, rubbing his crotch.

 

Fuck if that weren’t sexy to see.

 

Shit he liked this one.

_Fuck_ fuck fuck.

 

He didn’t think he was a kindred type to like so quickly. But hell. Here it was. He knew what he liked after centuries alive.

 

She let go, leaving the hobo dazed, and goddamn it if seeing her thumb away a drop of blood on her canines and suck at it weren’t the hottest thing he’d seen all year. She came over, looking up at him with pleasure-glazed eyes and he swallowed, stepping closer as he felt his blood sling around him. He lightly touched her cheek with a thoughtful hum, swiping off the trail of blood. “Hm?”

 

“Messy. Gonna need more training. Good first go though, sweetheart.” He licked his thumb.

 

Penelope blinked back into it, and if she could blush at his sensual actions, she would. “Oh?”

 

“Yeah, you didn’t fall to the beast-” He saw her eyes flicker in understanding and hummed knowingly, crossing his arms, noting her swallow and look away from him. “- that’s always there waiting to take over. Innocent humans being drained dry help it greaten to take over and turn you into a frenzying beast? Then we gotta put you down. But that don’t mean you don’t defend yourself, got it?”

 

She nodded strongly, taking his words in resolutely. “Got it, Jack.”

 

He felt his lips twitch.

 

Goddamnit that was cute.

 

Next, Jack directed her to sneak around a Sabbat, and when she found her way into the room he was in, he grinned. “Nice one. Looks like shadows are your friends. Now go down that grate… Here.” He pressed a knife into her hands and watched her shoot off, taking his words to heart. It was because she was new, he told himself. Most kindred would take advantage of that. He’d be sure to guide her well right now.

 

Gotta put in a good first impression, right?

 

Penelope talked down the guard that was there, looking the damsel in distress, and when he went into the next room, said guard was jumped by a Sabbat. Cursing in her mind, Penelope swiftly stabbed him in the back of the head. Then she went on, only to come into contact with another Sabbat, stabbing him in the back and then jumped him and drained him dry. She felt an odd power in her at that and wondered at it, touching her chest. Shaking her head, she did the same to a few others wondering at the odd power inside of her that was growing. She got a bit of a high off of it, and kept going, wondering how the hell so many got in, and how the hell her body could keep drinking so much blood after was must be her twentieth body dusting in her mouth.

 

It only when she met up with Jack that he narrowed his eyes at her. “Shit, woman, what’ve you been doing?”

 

“I’ve been killing Sabbat?”

 

“You drank ‘em to dust?”

 

“Yes? I get blood and I get no enemies. Practical.” She shrugged.

 

“Fuck, okay, so that’s a no-no thing to do, you hear?” Jack warned, not realising she’d do this but hell, it wasn’t like she knew any better.

 

Bewilderment crossed her features. “I-I do?”

 

He ran a hand through his hair, tugging on it. “A thing kindred don’t do. It’s… Just that you steal power, and that’s like killing a person and stealing their shit, their children, but worse. Kindred’s discipline is their own. It’s one of the worst things you can do. And fuck, these are _Salubri_ I’ve been killing, so you must be munching on ‘em, too _._ For fucks’ sakes woman you don’t make this easy on yourself, do ya?”

 

Penelope frowned, pushing blonde hair away from her eyes. “You know I’ve no idea what you’re talking about even though it sounds bad, right?”

 

“Yeah. Well, you got a double dose of Fortitude in you, so I expect you’ll be harder to damage than ever. S’one thing, I guess.” Jack sighed, annoyed. He went into his pocket. “Don’t suppose you know how to work one of these?” He took out a gun.

 

Warily, she took it when it was offered, giving it a disgusted look. “Jack-”

 

“You want to keep up with the world you gotta get dirty. Or is it too much for you to handle?” Jack challenged, raising a brow.

 

Her eyes flashed at that. “No.”

 

“ _Good,”_ Jack drawled out, turned on by her fiery actions. “Now hold it right, woman.”

 

“Penelope. Or if that’s too much for you to handle, Pen will do fine.” She held it as he chuckled. Then she stared down at it. “Uh, isn’t there a safety thing and, uhm, how do I reload?”

 

Snorting, he gave over some magazines. “Like this. Look at those bottles.” He waved at them in the distance.

 

“How _thoughtfully_ placed. So _very_ convenient.”

 

Jack snickered.

 

“So…?”

 

Coming around to get her in position, he lifted her arms up, guiding her through it. She felt too good there in his arms, and he had to keep his hips away from that round ass of hers. Hints of peppermint and orange slipped into his nose, her shampoo revitalising him. He licked his lips, watching as she shot all the bottle off, and grudgingly stepped away from her soft feeling body. “Not bad, sweetheart. You get the rest of these assholes in here, and I’ll clear out the ones outside. Go.”

 

Five adrenaline flushed minutes later, and Penelope was greeting Jack, a shaky smile on her face. She was zazzed up. “That was… hah.”

 

“Heh heh heh. You _liked_ it, didn’t you, Pen?” He teased, elbowing her in comradery.

 

Hesitantly, she nodded, putting a hand to her mouth to half hide her expression.

 

He cackled at that, slinging an arm around her shoulders. “Nice one! Woman after my own heart!” They heard a cab horn go. “Hmph. That’d be for you. Hey, my haunt is The Last Round, down in Downtown. Visit me when you get the chance.” He reluctantly let go and clapped her on the shoulder warmly. “Good luck, sweetheart.”

 

.

 

Been a week since he’d seen her.

 

Jack drilled his fingers along the table, filled up with blood after a feed.

 

His beast tapped in him to go see her.

 

He ignored it.

 

Patience.

 

Penelope would come around soon.

 

.

 

The woman got up silently, noiselessly taking out the Sabbat nearest her that had taken her down a peg after feeling good about exploding a warehouse full of these bastards that keep coming after her the past two weeks. She suspected it was LaCroix coaxing them forth, wanting to get rid of her, as he seemed surprised whenever he saw her for a report of her actions in his name before pursing his lips. She was lucky to survive that courtroom of theatre, and luckier to be continuously surviving. Better if she tragically died in the line of fire. Too young. Such a _shame_. With a grim anger, she then stabbed the next in the knife as the Sabbat turned to her with a snarl.

 

The talkative Sabbat was taken out with a shot to the head.

 

Penelope rubbed the back of her head. “Tch, thanks for the assist, blue shirt.”

 

“Shoulda been more careful, newbie,” Nines warned.

 

“I couldn’t have been _more_ careful. Out to get me, the pricks,” She muttered, beginning to stretch out and ignoring the eyes going down her body. While she still wore that leather jacket which had really come through in picking shit up to sell off, she wore a tight blouse of blood red for her new status and need, and a swishy short skirt for ease of movement that was thin enough to not make any noise. A simple cap covered her head and her ponytail stuck out the back of it, a bandanna underneath. She wore boots that laced up to her knees, wanting a bit more protection. She found it useful to look rather weak right now. It got her information and underestimation, and the lighter the clothing, the easier to sneak in.

 

Of course, her illusions were coming along very nicely, having taken more than a couple days to read up on the senses, hallucinations, lies, and story-telling. All of these helped her through her kindred life with Chimerstry, and with no one to teach her, she went by instinct and logical processes. Things that affect the brains senses? Learn them through neurology books and online papers. Need to lie? Psychology and how to books on manipulation and charming people. Story-telling? Again, how-to was pretty good.

 

“Kid, I got things to do. Why don’t you pay me a visit at The Last Round-”

 

She perked up. “Oh, is Jack there?”

 

It got his attention. “Never seen anyone happy at his name.”

 

“Gave me the basics no one else has. So yes. I have respect for him for that. And for you for saving me. Anyway, until later, blue shirt.” Pen gave him a wink and turned, leaving.

 

“It’s Nines not blue shirt!” He called after her.

 

“Alrighty, blue.”

 

He snorted, and made his way, mind on the newbie - and not a bad body either.

 

 

 


	2. Peace Within You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW ahead! I did write fast burn as a tag, right?

 

* * *

 

 

Penelope finished up a few things around Downtown on another night days later after meeting the one who'd saved her in the theatre before going to The Last Round. She mused over the words given to her by Strauss of his disinclination for LaCroix as a Prince. Oh, she agreed of course, but it was very clear his ‘accidental’ letting out of such words, which were rather treasonous, were on purpose. They were made to measure her reaction, to see if she’d agreed, if she could be on his side or not. She merely smiled and cocked her head, affecting slight confusion.

 

It worked for now, but soon enough she’d be more informed and couldn’t use such tactics.

 

Her eyes narrowed at the bar before her. If she was staying there a while she wanted to check it out. So she went around, taking in the window placements, a way in the back, and finally came around the front and went inside. Music blared into her ears first of all, then the scent of booze, and finally her sight was blocked by the smirking form of Smiling Jack before her as he met her at the door.

 

She smiled up at him, pleased to see her sort-of mentor. “Jack.”

 

“Been a while, sweetheart, glad to see ya ain’t dead!” He cackled, slinging an arm around her shoulders and dragging her to the stairs, but then pushing her up first by a hand to her lower back. He narrowed his eyes at Skelter who was taking too much time giving attention to her hips. When Skelter saw his displeasure, the other man raised his hands, backing off. Good. He might not have done anything too bad… but still. Been two and a half weeks since he’d seen her. Who knows what the hell she’d been through he didn’t know of? He only knew the basics, and not many of them had been able to get a hold of the Nosferatu in the Warrens to get more information on anything let alone a singular fledgling. Even Bertram Tung and Barbarus had been offline or whatever they call it and those two were the usual mouths for the Nosferatu.

 

Pen looked around, seeing some redhead sneering at her and a bunch of empty seats. Seemed it was a quiet day today. Good. The music was far more muted up here and more so in the corner he guided her to, so she could talk without too much distraction. She looked up at him, upside down. “It’s good to see you, Jack. A familiar face as yours is a welcome one.”

 

“Ain’t surprised,” He replied back, lower in tone, squeezing her waist and then letting go. He watched as she sat in the corner with approval at her choice, remarking, “Heard you’ve got the roof on fire at your place of work.”

 

Penelope winced at that and nodded. “Yes, Bertram said the whole city heard it. Bit of an ouch thing to hear about with my still rather human morals. Pyromania isn’t a trait of mine, I promise you,” She assured as he joined her, taking out a whiskey flask filled with blood.

 

Jack snickered, putting an elbow on the table as he faced her. “It should be, we’re especially weak to it. Could save your life sometime.” He watched as she drunk, eyes riveted to her throat as she swallowed. “Not a bad idea, sweetheart. Flask. Should been using one myself.”

 

“They happen from time to time. Want some? I’m filled up.” She offered the silver piece out.

 

“Sure.” He took it and swigged some. Quality flavour. “Pretty good stuff.”

 

Pen smiled at him, a little smug. “I know. I have my ways.” If ways meant seducing prior fans of hers with dosh in their pockets and an ego as big as their wallets, faking an illusion of a very good exhausting ‘time’ and leaving an image of wanting more so she can get more blood, then yes. Ways were ways. “Things work out well sometimes.”

 

“Seems like you’re slotting in well. Good on ya. We need more competent kindred in LA. Too many damn shovelheads that ain’t even shovelheaded.”

 

“I have no idea what you mean yet I somehow understood every word.”

 

Jack smirked at that, snickering. “Let me tell you of the Sabbat now we got time, sweet.” So he did, leaning on the table as he faced her, taking in her expressions. He enjoyed riveting her with tales, because if there’s one thing an ex-pirate could do, it was spinning yarn and talking trash. “There ya have it. And you got some of that Salubri in ya too.”

 

Penelope swallowed, because… “I, uhm, Jack, I may have-” She was about to lift her hand up to her head to show a _certain something_ that had appeared after practice, but then saw Nines striding over and instead went for her flask, affecting coolness and indifference. “Hm.”

 

The Brujah narrowed his eyes at the incoming younger man. “If it ain’t our man Nines!” _Interrupting his time with the woman he damn well wanted._ “Busy night?”

 

Nines took in the fact the man had quickly shifted to face him dead on, opening up his body to look bigger, to make the woman behind him a little smaller. He raised a brow. “Shit happens between anarchs that I gotta sort. Nothing out of the ordinary there.”

 

“So… Are you an enforcer Like Sheriff but anarch-wise?” Penelope asked, curious.

 

The Brujah narrowed his eyes as Jack smirked, chuckling at her words. “No anarch appreciates being likened to a Cammy, kid.”

 

The woman blinked. “To me it’s like saying ‘is this level in this countries army the same level as that country?’ No offence was meant. I just don’t know what is what, so I have to liken it to things I do know, you know?”

 

“Alright, I won’t take offence, _this time._ ” Nines tilted his head. “It’s something like that.”

 

“So are you?”

 

“…Sort of.”

 

“Are you a baron?”

 

“There’s no one like that downtown or in the Free States.” Then he frowned. “Well-”

 

“I thought there was that Isaac guy?” Pen pointed out, confused. She saw nines grimace. “Wait, am I wrong?”

 

“She’s got you there, haha!” Jack laughed loudly, proud at her riling him up and winning. “There is an Isaac as Baron in Hollywood, sweets, but everyone looks up to Nines here, so he may as well be.”

 

Enlightenment came to her. “Ohhh. Why not just be it? If going around resolving disputes, having garnered a level of respect, and saving innocent women from beheadings doesn’t make you a leader, I don’t really know what qualifiers for that would be. Despotism?” She joked.

 

It made Jack laugh lowly, taking her flask and lifting it to her in agreement, sipping, but Nines growled at her. Something that had Jack leaning forward and giving his own growl back, startling Rodriguez back into silence. “Ain’t gotta be so damn touchy to the new kid. She’s just working for the cammy to get by, not actually one. You _know_ what it’s like for fledglings these days. This one especially by being saved by your ass, which dumped her straight into LaCroix’s hands.”

 

That had Nines calming down and nodding. “Right. Sorry, kid. Camarilla just pisses me off.”

 

“It’s okay. Perhaps my joke was in poor taste, so, uhm, sorry for that. I just don’t quite understand you, this whole Los Angeles thing, and then kindred law as a general.”

 

“No laws, just guidelines,” Jack responded, watching her groan and put her face in her hands and he clapped her shoulder, only for her to slump into his chest with a pitiful moan. Something he snickered at, and pat her back as he drank again and then remarked, “Bullshit, ain’t it? Hahaha!”

 

“Just, how is there no bloody stability?” The woman belted out in incredulity, hands coming out to fling up with palm up. “How many years us sods been around? I get it, Clans have their own ways and rules and such, but I’m Clanless. There’s sects, sure, but I’m sectless. This some crap, Jack.” She took her flask back, taking a gulp.

 

“Yup, it’s a load of crap.” He slung his arm around her shoulder, grabbing her flask and slurping down some, then handed it to her at her ‘grabby hand’ gesture. “Don’t worry, sweets, Jack’ll look out for ya.” He kept her up against him, with her leaning an elbow on the table, chin in hand and an aggrieved look on her face.

 

“Thanks, love,” Pen murmured back, grateful, enjoying the hold she was in. It felt good to have something that seemed like it wanted her without use or dealings. She didn’t see the narrowing of the eyes of Jack at her words or feel the thumb slightly rub the jacket she wore. “So, tell me of the Anarchs thoughts of Free States, blue.”

 

That got Nines talking, with more Anarchs coming over to also passionately debate as was Brujah way, it seemed.

 

The next hour was of understanding the politics of their world, where they stood in it, and who they opposed and why. She felt Nines was unnecessarily extremist in his vitriol against it. Honestly, it just made him a target; didn’t he see that, or did he see and he just didn’t use that to his own advantage in protecting others? Or did he take advantage and just not tell her because why _should_ he tell her? The last would be wisest, but… Nines’s flunkies didn’t come across as any more intelligent and wiser to such tactics as their Leader did. Damsel, as… _charming_ as she came across, was just aggressive and rote of hatred for Camarilla as he was. Skelter was as truculent, Diogenes was just as pugnacious, and the others getting involved were just as confrontational.

 

They were so damn forceful.

 

She’d be disappointed if this was what she had to work with to get her sect ahead of the game.

 

As they argued over something, Penelope turned to Jack, lips pursed. She shook her head slightly.

 

Jack nodded, almost rueful. Her leaned to her ear and whispered. “Too much aggro and barely a brain shared between 'em.”

 

She chuckled and lifted her lips to his ear to murmur, “I’m guessing they pass around the one they have and it’s been a bit more battered each time it passes hands.”

 

That had him snickering. “Sounds about right.”

 

“You know,” Penelope leaned up, putting her elbow on his shoulder, having not left his hold this whole time. “A bunch of couches would do this place good. I like this,” The singer rolled her shoulders without moving his arm off, “But my body doesn’t like the angle.”

 

That’s an idea. “Not bad. Hm. You need to go report in?”

 

“I should but…” She looked at the sky, soon enough to brighten. “Best not to go now, however.”

 

“C’mon, I’ll take you home.” They said their goodbyes, getting curious looks or knowing smirks, but it was a good thing he did, because the amount of Sabbat coming out the woodwork to get a piece of her Ravnos ass was ridiculous. “Shit, woman, this what it’s been like every night?”

 

Penelope nodded grimly, as another group came out. “Let’s just say I’d never thought I’d take care of over fifty odd men in three days. I didn’t even know there were these many kindred.”

 

Fuck, neither did he. These numbers were beyond worrying. Jack turned to her, wondering how she’d survived, but then noted two Sabbat were fighting the others for some reason and causing a big distraction. He left them to it, grabbing one man and snapping his back over his knee, keeping close to the woman who’d taken out a machete from her jacket and defended herself from claws. She sliced a hand off, touching the man, only for his head to seemingly explode. “The fuck?!” He took out the next three, only to turn around and see Penelope waving him over to an alley, a large trail of dust being blow away in the direction she’d gone. She went down a manhole and he followed. “The _hell_ was that?”

 

“Well, ah, I may have bitten more than one Salubri when you taught me back at the theatre.”

 

“How many did you diablerize?”

 

“Ah, maybe, uhm… enough for Ravnos blood to be half Salubri?”

 

“What? That must mean at least ten of ‘em!”

 

“Yes, well… maybe closer to twenty?” She lifted her cap and bandanna, and the outline of an eye closed was visible.

 

Jack’s eyes widened, more incredulous that admonishing. “Fuck, woman!” He whistled lowly.

 

“Yeah. That’s the jist of my feelings. It’s why I have a thick bandanna on as well. It glows when I used my power in such a way.” The blonde frowned when he still looked unbelieving. “I’m no good in a full-on fight like the one we had, so I had to develop ways of fighting them off,” She said defensively, looking away.

 

Jack grasped her hand, making her look up at him guardedly. “I didn’t mean anything by it. It just ain’t normal to meet someone so young diablerizin’ and findin' an ability like that. But hey, what’s done is done. Ain’t no point cryin’ over spilt milk. Tell me more about it in a minute,” He said gruffly and then began to stride forth along the corridors of the sewer. “C’mon this way, you’re coming back to mine. That shit out there ain’t right. They probably know where you live.”

 

“I wonder who could have told them.” She scoffed.

 

“Prince, huh?” He didn’t need to see her response to know it right. “So? Fighting. Head explodin’. What gives?”

 

“Well, it’s a mixture of Ravnos Chimestry and Salubri, uh, something or other.”

 

“Valeren Discipline.”

 

“Is that what it’s called? Alright. Well, hallucinations are what I focused on these past couple weeks, ways for others to think I’m elsewhere, across the street, behind them, wherever. If it affects their senses then I can take some sort of control of what people see or feel or anything, really. More difficult versions equal more energy, obviously. Then I found I wanted to enhance _me_. My hearing, that sort of thing. But then I realised I could see energy when I focused on it? The lines or paths of life in the people around me. Their beasts, and their mortality, kindred and kine respectively. I realised they were better to lock onto. And I could do so in a benevolent or malignant fashion.”

 

Realisation came to him. “Salubri could see energy, yeah. So, what, you locked onto them and-?”

 

“Even cursed, the body is biological matter and follows processes. Hastening or delaying or otherwise messing with it produces happy or unhappy results. I show the brain this happens in an illusion, then it thinks it’s happening, and with my blood energy focusing on their energy, it actually _does_ happen. So they think they see me going away, and technically, according to their body and senses, they do. Even if I don’t. Or with a touch for better control… I overexert the brain and make the blood in them riot and they go pop. And that keeps me alive.”

 

Jack whistled, nodding. “That’s impressive.” He brought her to a blocked off door, but with a wrench of power, lifted it. “In here, sweetheart.”

 

“Thanks.” She nodded at him opening the door for her. “I can barely fight, and with Fortitude, I can take a hit just to get a touch on them that’ll kill them. It’s a glass cannon of a move. Stupid to let them so close, I know, but it’s all I have if I _have_ to fight. And yeah, I’ve had to far too many.” The woman sighed, ducking through the hole into a room. “I’d much prefer to heal with it but, have not had a chance to try it. Oh.” Penelope looked around the surprisingly furnished space. A huge bed, a wardrobe, a small fridge, fluffy rugs on the floor before what looked like a portable fireplace of all things with wood stacked beside it, a computer on a desk, a table and chair, and another room she could scent metal and water. Perhaps a bathroom?

 

More than enough for one, easily capable for two to live in.

 

She slowly blinked at that thought, wondering if…?

 

“Not bad, ah?”

 

“It’s good.” Sure there were cracks along the wall and the roof was ugly and looking about to burst, and there was the underlying scent of water pervading everything from being in a sewer, but it somehow didn’t stink, it was mostly dry (if a mite bit muggy) and spacious in a place she didn’t expect it. She slumped her backpack and leather jacket off, leaving it to the side of the entrance but for the flask, and she drained half of what’s left. “Want some?”

 

“Nah, I got some bottled in the fridge. Keep it and have some of those instead, sweetheart.” He wasn’t sure how often she’d get to top up. The least he could do to look after her was give her blood. He always made sure to be well stocked. He took some out, chucking it to her and watched her bite into it, all nymph-like and pretty. Shit. There went his blood again, going down. He came over, intently staring as it quickly drained. The plastic went from her mouth, and he caught her jaw, flicking his thumb down her fang to catch the drops of red. He ducked down, eyes on her mouth as he licked up his thumb, lightly groaning.

 

Pen was struck still, before hunger rushing through her and jolted her into moving. She caught his lips with her own, her enthusiasm catching him off guard and with a rumble, tossed the plastic to the side and kissed her back, his beast roaring to keep and plunder. He picked her up, keeping her fully against him, kissing her hard. Her whimper into his mouth felt decadent and he needed more, deepening the kiss but slowing down, locking one around her hips to keep them to his, and the other held her neck. He enjoyed how she clung to him, arms slipping around his neck, had missed how good it was to feel sexual pleasure.

 

Damn he wanted her.

 

He parted, just about. “Woman,” He murmured lowly against her lips, doing his best not to ravage her lips for more kisses. “Been on my mind since I met ya.”

 

“Oh?” She tugged on his hair playfully. “Do tell.”

 

“Wanted you, and I ain’t about to stop wanting you either. You let me have you, then I keep having you. Kindred don’t like sharing if you haven’t noticed.”

 

“Wouldn’t mind a bit of you every few nights. Friends with benefits, perhaps?” She offered, kissing down his neck and making him grunt and tilt his head, in a show of trust. She gentled her kisses for it. Honestly, she really could do with some stress relief.

 

“For now. Got some centuries behind me, woman, means I’m more possessive.” He lifted her chin, eyes flickering red. “Means if you want this to keep happening, gonna have to deal with my hands all over that gorgeous body of yours whenever I can touch you. Let’s have this one night, but after, you gotta answer to yourself if you can deal with me or not. Cause staying with this means being with me. I don't want that friends shit.”

 

She was warned. She still wanted him. “I understand. This one night, and then I’ll see if I can take your touching. But if I try and can’t and it hasn’t been even a couple months of us trying this, don’t come after me.” She tilted away from him, warning with a firm look.

 

He could do handful of mere days if it meant having her. He knew this wasn’t any old bit of fun. Too old not to know when what he liked came up and when he should jump on such a precious opportunity. It didn’t hurt she was going to be powerful and had looks. “Got it.” At his nod, she undid her blouse and tossed it to her things by the door.

 

Within seconds he was pulling down her bra from her body, chucking it to her things and sucking her tit into his mouth, tonguing her nipple in hard flicks. She keened over him, fingers grasping the base of his hair and damn if that didn’t sound heavenly. Her skirt slipped from her waist, held up by two buttons, followed by her boots. He strode over and chucked her on the bed, making her giggle, and he smirked, undoing his belt, and dropping down his jeans. He undid his boots as he spoke, bending down to suck her nipple, “Flow your blood into your body, to your cunt. I want you dripping in blood and woman’s slick for me.”

 

He could feel it as she did, his cock and balls aching, her body smelling like heaven and dessert and kissed down her body, slipping to her silk knickers, dragging them down. He felt the heat thrum from her and his tongue slipped from him to lick up her lower lips, delighting in her cunt when he opened them slowly up for his perusal. Feminine juices mixed with blood to give him some of the tastiest sampling of cunt he’d ever had. His mind burst into sparks. One swipe, then two, and a third, and he shook his head, dizzy. “No, have to be in you. A man could go crazy on you sweetheart.”

 

She tugged at him, keening out in need, “Want you in me, Jack.”

 

That sounded so good, so sweet, he trembled and groaned loud, kissing her hard. Without a thought, he aligned himself and shunted up into her, and she flung her head back to moan along with his low, long groan. He wanted to hold her hips and fuck down into her, looking at all she had as a spread for him to delight in, but he covered her with his body, kissing her sloppily as he thrust away into her tight core, her heat a nirvana, addicting and unnaturally good. Made sense. Kindred.

 

But shit, he couldn’t stop thrusting.

 

He was losing it to frenzy.

 

Fuck it.

 

He was beyond sure his frenzy wouldn’t hurt her.

 

So then he simply accepted it.

 

She was his and his beast knew it like his humanity knew it.

 

And then… then…

 

Something clicked. Turned in him. His beast seemed to disperse and merge with his humanity.

 

Within moments it went, and only deep, unrelenting hunger was left.

 

Jack focused on her as her third eye swiftly flashed on and off, jackhammering his cock into different angles until he found one where, shoving her knees back, had her crying out as his hilting of his cock into her. Each wet, hot slurp made her whimper until it touched that one bit in her. Then she called out his name in a halting fashion when he slammed into her cervix, needing her to know who was doing this. He knocked off her hat and bandanna, watching the fact her eye was glowing, stronger and stronger until with a pause of silence, she crested, and broke into orgasming with a hard sound. He could feel her clench and release, flutter around him so delectably he felt his eyes rolling as he came, spurting into her hard.

 

“Fuck, Pen!”

 

“J-Jaaaaa- _ck!_ ”

 

The violence of coming tore through him at that sound of his name in a way it hadn’t before, his balls clenching almost painfully hard, pressing as deep into her as he could, almost wanting to shove all of his fucking balls into her. Wanted her to never feel anything as good as him in her. Blood trickled into his vision as she trembled and breathed hard, making little whimper-like sounds that sounded way too good. He let up, pulling out, cock staying hard. But, still, he, with a groan, went back to her pussy, drinking up all the blood they’d expelled and working her up once more, eating her out like she deserved, kneading her breasts and nipples between his fingers to keep it going for her.

 

With a growl, feeling her begin to clench, he flipped her over and slotted back inside, making her call out, louder, “Jack!”

 

He kissed her cheek. “I’m right here, sweetheart. Can’t you feel me?” His hands roamed her chest and thighs, wanting to know her body intimately.

 

“So much!” She breathed out, making a keening sound in her throat. She looked back, and with her round ass against him, the fine line of her back sloping beautifully, and her eyes so wanton his hips reflexively jerked harder into her, and her replying sound of pleasure had him rolling his hips into hers. Then he lay on her back, one hand grasping her hip and cradling his lower abdomen with his forearm and a hand on her upper thigh, a pinkie finger on her clit. “Gonna make you come again woman. Gonna make you see how much you need to come on my cock.”

 

“Please make me. Wanna come on your cock. Need it. Make me yours again please!”

 

He almost bit her at that, fangs aching. “Yeah? You’re mine? Want to come on me, precious?” He rubbed his pinkie finger and she almost collapsed on herself with pleasure. “Give me it. _Give me it!_ ” With an almost wail, she did, and he just about held back on coming as she clenched so hard he grunted and grit his teeth, hurting his suddenly painful fangs. “Fuuuck! Gods yes!” He rubbed more insistent circles, with her spasming harder on him and now yelling and writhing on him, something his male ego adored. But he couldn’t help it, coming as she quaked around him. He sunk his fangs into her.

 

But not taking blood, injecting.

 

He slumped on her, feeling so depleted of blood.

 

They shuddered and twitched through the pleasure, breathing useless lungs hard, exhausted.

 

“Wh-what…?” She touched where he’d bitten, and he groaned, pleasure flushing through him, and his lack of focus had his cock previously deflating… only for it now to rise up. She made a sound, surprised at feeling him harden in her again. “Sex mark?” She hummed and then nodded. “Yes, I feel it is.”

 

“Sex mark?”

 

She gently turned over onto her back next to him, and he didn’t like the feel of his wet cock getting so cold when he had the blush of life on. She flushed prettily when he slid back in her, pulling her on top of him. It made him smirk up at her. “I can kind of sense intentions. This is for pleasure. A… type of bond? Nothing about it is of death though, so that’s good for us.” Her hips, unable to help it, it seemed, started to move. She did need to come on his cock. Setting a hard pace, she came once again, only for Jack to grab her head and kiss her hard and she whimpered into his mouth when he pushed her back so he was on top and simply fucked her until they both came once more.

 

Jack wasn’t sure about this bond, but he was about getting to enjoy this with her. He kind of found the idea that his mark was on her and that she could rub it with intent to show her need was a kink of his. Men wanted a way to know if a woman wanted them, and with an intentional touch of a button, he got the idea loud and clear. He wasn’t about to be her sex slave or bitch or something, but damn if he wasn’t turned on by the thought of her smiling at him and dragging him off to have a little fun, lust flowing through him. Some boundaries would have to be set, but fuck.

_Fuck._

 

This was good.

 

And what had happened with his beast?

 

The fuck did it go?

 

Wait. _Salubri_. They were known for-

 

No. He did _not_ find Golconda in her cunt.

 

Penelope slumped next to him, nearest the wall his bed was against. The flush of life left her, but not much changed. He watched, wondering what it was like for her as a fledgling compared to an experienced kindred like him. He shifted to have her leaning on him. And she gave him a dazed grin before her eyes fluttered down in the need for sleep. His arm around her kept her on his chest, and he lifted a knee up to block her further, an arm above his head. “Sleep, sweetheart.” He didn’t need to say it, she was already out, a comfy weight on his chest.

 

This, he could get used to.

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think of this version of Jack?


	3. The Devil's Luck

 

* * *

 

 

Penelope yawned as she woke up, feeling tired still.

 

She lifted up, trying to recall where she was, only to sigh as lips found her nipple and sucked, large hands slinking to grasp her hips.

 

Then she almost flopped back down, being pulled to sit astride a hard cock, and whimpering as it stretched her out, feeling so good.

 

“ _Fuuuck_ , Jack.”

 

“Yeah, we are.”

 

“Bloody-”

 

“It is, yeah. Captain Obvious after a good, long, gratuitous _fuck_ , Penelope?”

 

“Practise makes perfect, so hurry it up.”

 

Smiling Jack smirked up at her, dark eyes twinkling. “As my woman wants.”

 

“Oh do I want…” She murmured, leaning down to smile at him as he lazily thrust up, making little sounds that drove him crazy, eyes lidded and lustful.

 

She looked like sex incarnate to him. “Good.” He leaned up to kiss her, one hand on the back of her neck.

 

.

 

Penelope was glad the Sabbat seemed to have lost her, because following her to have a battle on a ship with cops everywhere would be _no good_ to say the least.

 

She had no idea that Jack had demanded an attack on the Sabbat when last night as he was bringing Pen home there’d been no less than twenty Sabbat coming after her, and that if it was happening to one fledgling that had barely any sway with anyone, it could happen to the more experienced kindred of them easily. Nines agreed, sending out groups to protect downtown and its surrounding areas. He was in disbelief how many of his people came back harmed, even if minimally.

 

They all said the same.

 

Too many Sabbat.

 

News was sent to Isaac, who agreed with them that streets had become dangerous this past week. And so he sent out the idea that Kuei-Jin had teamed up with Sabbat. It had a rollover effect of two things. Sabbat thought Kuei-Jin and Tong were allies, and then got cut down because it was opportunity for the Kuei-Jin to rid LA of less kindred, but soon enough the idea had gotten to the Kuei-Jin, and they began to use the Sabbat.

 

Against the Camarilla.

 

Isaac had pat himself on the back for that set-up.

 

And when Penelope came to see LaCroix once again with the Primogen walking away, mission completed as she wondered about the smaller amount of Primogen compared to clans, she noted the man both look at her incredulously and then hide it behind an indifferent look. Again. Hmph, bastard. “Prince LaCroix. I’ve reports for you.” She took them out of her bag and handed them to her temporary boss. “Here.”

 

He took them, noting the information, but more the scent of kindred on her, experienced and powerful. Now who was she allying with? His eyes narrowed in thought at the reports before looking up at her. “I’ll look over them later. I presume you took in the mollycoddled malingerers that are the Primogen walking out?”

 

She looked back, noting the piano at the back as she did each time. “I did. Nice Bösendorfer by the way.”

 

“Thank you. Do you play?” He asked, curious that she knew the brand.

 

Penelope inclined her head, jazz singer and musician she previously was. “Yes.”

 

Sebastian could do with some music. “Play for me. Classical.”

 

The first warm smile on her face he’d seen his way made him tilt his head as she strode over to it.

 

She wondered what to play, but he seemed to be rather tense, so something softer. Chopin’s Nocturne No 9 op 2 came on for him to relax to. Then some Vivaldi Summer, her favoured of the Four Seasons, followed by Carnival of the Animals by Saint-Saëns, and finally The Planets by Holst. By the end of the near two hours her fingers ached, but wonderfully so. She’d missed playing. She sighed out happily, laying fingers on keys and stroking them before standing up. “What a wonderful piano,” She murmured to herself, in a bit of a daze. She came back over slowly, in a happy state. “Thank you for that, it was fun to play again.”

 

Sebastian had stopped to listen, so very rarely getting the chance to indulge when he had business both kindred and enterprising to deal with. “You play rather wonderfully, Miss Penelope.”

 

She’d never been referred to by name by him. “I was a bit off today, Prince. I hadn’t played in a couple months.” She massaged her fingers and hands. “I was a musician and singer in my previous life.”

 

“Are these your favoured pieces?” He wondered, wanting to know her repertoire.

 

“The Planets always makes me happy to play. But if you’re asking about a composer?” A nod, and she elucidated, “Grieg. His Nocturne is my favourite piece. Admittedly, the only reason I got into classical and playing piano, was an advert on television from my childhood that played In the Hall of The Mountain King from Grieg, so that may be rose-tinted glasses and nostalgia speaking. Ravel is always a good choice for finicky works to challenge myself on.”

 

“Ravel? Quite pleasing playing. I saw him play at the Paris Conservatoire. Solid work.” He thought back, recalling it quite well. “As was Debussy.”

 

Penelope kind of just gawked at him for such an offhand comment. Some of the biggest names in classical music. _Quite pleasing_. “Both?” She croaked out incredulously and then cleared her throat whilst looking away and ignoring the smirk on his face. “What a time that must have _been_.”

 

“Yes, I do miss it.” The Prince took her in. “As it is, the Malkavian Primogen has been missing…”

 

Penelope frowned deeper as he explained about it. After he finished, she nodded. “How worrying. I’ll come back when I figure it out.”

 

“Do so. And Miss Penelope?” He came around, holding a hand out. When she placed her own in his, he kissed the back of it. “Thank you again for playing. I would enjoy another rendition the next time we meet.”

 

If she could, she’d blush, but instead she just gave a rakish little smirk she knew was charming and executed a perfectly curtsy that surprised him. “You’re very welcome. Good evening, Prince.” She nodded and turned, exiting the room in strides, unable to help but have her eyes linger on the magnificent piano before she fully left.

 

Sheriff looked to his Prince, blinking slowly.

 

“Merely an appreciation for talent.”

 

The Nagloper looked away.

 

Sebastian had the feeling Sheriff didn’t quite believe him and huffed through his nose, going back to work.

 

One can appreciate without wanting more.

 

But he supposed Sheriff did know of his dalliances with the Voerman sister.

 

.

 

Penelope felt his life energy before she saw him, a Brotherhood flyer in hand.

 

An arm went around her waist and she was pulled into a kiss that she melted into, her upper back pressed into a wall.

 

“Hello sweetheart.”

 

She grinned up at Jack, holding onto his biceps. “Hello Jack. Fancy meeting you here.”

 

Jack wasn’t about to tell her he’d tried to trace her and found it difficult. He suspected it was some form of ability, hiding herself, maybe a hallucination Chimestry thing or… something. Her scent was the same level all over the place, and even close to her it had barely gotten greater. Until now, where he’d pressed himself to her and rubbed that deliciousness on him.

 

He felt settled.

 

Which was a strange goddamn feeling, having no beast to contend with.

 

His Golconda had lasted.

 

He’d have to find the big bad and get his opinion.

 

“Saw you and thought I’d get in on whatever action you’re about to have.”

 

“Let’s go kill a plaguebearer then?” She asked expectantly, a smirk on her lips.

 

“Darlin’, you say the prettiest things a man can hope to hear.” It made her laughed, just as planned, and he followed as she led the way.

 

It was an hour later they came out, exhausted, way less chipper than they had been going in to face the Brotherhood of the Ninth Circle. Bishop Vick had been more corpse than kindred and his people had been what Penelope would call zombies, and Jack was hard pressed not to agree. A short stop at the Chantry as Jack lingered outside, puffing away with a cigarette, and Penelope picked up a talisman. When she came out, she showed him and asked quietly, “Jack, darling, tell me I didn’t get lied to and this is useful and I didn’t miss out on actual payment.”

 

He snickered, taking her hand and pulling her along, putting the cig out on a wall and chucking it in the bin, knowing the Tremere would get pissy should he stamp it out outside their Chantry. With his woman that was Salubri, he wasn’t about to take chances. Tremere and Salubri didn’t have good history. “You didn’t get jilted for pay, woman. That’s useful. Will help ya with blood abilities. Just keep it on you. A newbie like you will need it.”

 

She smiled up at him, pleased, getting a hand squeeze in return. “Oh good.” It was kind of cute, a blood red stone with what looked like a brown cap on it with three prongs. But her thoughts on its’ cuteness was shoved to the side as Jack opened a manhole, waving her down after him. Following, she realised he went first only to get a good look at her rear on the way down, his smirk wide and smug. “Like I didn’t know.” She stuck her nose up as she passed him, trying not to grin at his swift kiss to her cheek. “Hmph!”

 

He snickered and she threw a grin over her shoulder, making him melt.

 

God damn was he lost to her.

 

Then a smirk grew.

 

And he’d be sure to be lost in her in a minute.

 

Swiftly, he picked her up with a cackle at her yelp, slapping her ass and quickening his pace, enjoying the giggles from her as she gripped his ass in both palms.

 

"We're gonna have some fun, you and I woman."

 

.

 

The next night was dealing with some bail bonds guy Jack had no run ins with whatsoever.

 

Until the man looked her up and down in a manner he didn’t like.

 

When Penelope went over to this computer, he grasped Arthur Kilpatrick by the front of his clothes and hissed out lowly so she didn't hear, “Look at my woman like that again and I’ll rip your fucking eyes out via your throat, got it?!”

 

“Y-You got it, man!” The man shakily replied, hands up. "Ain't no disrespect meant!"

 

By the time Penelope had gotten her information, Jack was smoking a cigarette and Arthur was looking anywhere but at either of them. “Later Kilpatrick.”

 

“Y-Yeah, you, uh, you have a good night, hun- er, missy.”

 

A strange look his way form Penelope, then they left and went around town, finding a mad prosthetic man names Stanley who kept people in and chopped them up to experiment on. On the way back, Jack looked at her, arm over her shoulder as usual. “This been happening a lot these last three weeks?” Yesterday they’d taken on the plague bearer, and then previous there was the plaguebearer and before that the Sabbat and then the warehouse and who the fuck knows what else she'd done. “Because damn you’re busy.”

 

Pen lay her head on his chest. “Every day there’s been something. Kindred life is a trial and a half. Is this-”

 

“Nope. No kindred has it like this. This ain’t normal.” Jack looked at her and then away. “You just got the luck of the devil. Or something.”

 

“Or something.”

 

“Guess if you got lucky in power, you get unlucky with attacks.”

 

“Really unlucky, yeah.” The woman agreed, looking around the area for said incoming attacks, wary. “Hope it doesn’t last long. I can’t live in this sort of fashion.”

 

“Ah, sweetheart, you’re just sorting out the shit no one else in this fuckin’ city wanted to. Ain’t no other reason a cult could get so many zombies, or that bastard with the arm just now could have so many people and pieces collected unless he had time.” Jack puffed on his cigarette, offering her some, but she shook her head absently, squeezing his waist. He brought it back to his mouth, blowing it away now he got she wasn’t a fan of smoking. “Good to see the place getting cleaned up, though.” Then he thought about their destination. “Ain’t Pawnshop Apartments your ol-ah, your place?” He was about to say old place, as if he’d fully moved her in just because she’d stayed the last some nights.

 

“It is. At least, that’s where I woke up when I turned.”

 

“They just gave it to ya?”

 

“Seems so. I haven’t paid rent, so, maybe?” Pen shrugged up at him. “I take what I can get, I guess.”

 

“Kindred way.”

 

“Bah. Hey, tell me a story of yourself.”

 

“I was a pirate once.”

 

She gawked up at him, and boy if that didn’t make him feel good. “No!”

 

“Oh yeah, Caribbean, Baltic, Med, anywhere a good ship went, I was on it.” He went into a few stories that night as they sorted Arthur out, enchanting Penelope.

 

If that was what he had to do to get her hooked on him, he’d have to wrack his brains for more.

 

.

 

Penelope made her way to the Mansion Grout owned the night after next, and paused on seeing Nines come out, saying something to her about not going in.

 

Considering she’d just been to see Jack, and hence had caught sight of Nines, she instantly knew it wasn’t him. The next obvious thing was being able to see through the illusion with energy being far different to other kindred. And after that was having the woman impersonating him being too different in manner. “Excuse me, Miss, but if you must impersonate Rodriguez, then I would suggest you learn his mannerisms.”

 

“What-”

 

“Far too polite, doesn’t stand like that, doesn’t have that scent. This illusion is done by only a single sight of him, I’m going to assume?”

 

“I don’t-”

 

“A very good illusion though. That’s impressive. How did you do it?”

 

The fake narrowed their eyes. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re speaking about.”

 

“You don’t have to, as I _do_ know what _I’m_ talking about.” She could see the woman beneath now she focused on it. “Nice dress. How’d you change the sound of clothing likes dresses and their swish to something more jean like in material?”

 

“That would be a secret,” She replied coolly, breaking the illusion as there was no point continuing it when it was clear the kindred knew. Keeping it up was an insult to both of them. “So, a kindred with better senses than most.”

 

Penelope took her in. “Kuei-Jin, yes?”

 

“Indeed. I escaped from this mansion. Your Primogen is dead, killed by a hunter of your kind. Grünfeld Bach. Come with me, and I shall teach you illusions. _If_ you can learn the Kuei-Jin way, however, is on you. I simply ask you keep my name out of it as payment.”

 

It could be seen as betrayal.

 

Her eyes narrowed.

 

She didn’t have any tutors for illusions though.

 

What else was she to do?

 

Penelope nodded, noting the mansion on fire. Hell no was she going into a burning building, every vampire part of her drawing back. "Let's get to learning, Lăoshī Ming Xiao."

 

The Kuei-Jin smiled at the honorific and led the way. 

 

.

 

The next time Jack saw her was downtown, just before she entered the bar.

 

Pissed, he’d grabbed her by the wrist and dragged her around to the side of it, looking around before snapping out, “Damnit, woman! You had me pissed off for not showing up after finding Grouts Mansion had been burning down!”

 

Penelope felt guilty. “Shit, I’m sorry, Jack. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

 

“It’s practically morning the next day, where the hell were you?!”

 

“The Kuei-Jin. I went with their leader- Hear me out!” She said in a louder tone when he was about to heatedly retort something. “When I arrived at Grouts, I saw someone in an illusion of Nines come out. It happened to be Ming Xiao. I could see through it, but I only noticed because I knew I’d just seen Nines here when I last saw you. The illusion was a solid one, it was beyond good. And then, I, uh… wanted to learn more so, uhm...”

 

“Went with her to learn about that shit?” He guessed.

 

“Yeah. It was a spur of the moment thing. She was curious about my ability to see through it. I didn’t tell her of my Clan, but well, there’s not many who can do that stuff, huh?”

 

Jack growled at the thought of her being more known but knew the Kuei-Jin would come to know of her. LaCroix’s go-to girl was beginning to get a name for herself. “Can’t blame you, woman, but get a message out, would you?” He slung an arm around her waist, dragging her to him, kissing the mark he’d left on her.

 

Sheepishly, she nodded into his chest. “Sorry.”

 

He breathed her hair in, smelling like oranges and mint. It relaxed him. “Nah, I get ya, sweets. Ain’t no one else around here that could teach ya that stuff. Was it worth it?”

 

Her eyes lit up. “It was definitely worth the haranguing I’m going to get from the Prince for dragging my feet. Still don’t know what I’m going to say to him.”

 

“Hmph. For now, make it up to me with kisses,” He muttered into her ear, and was pleased when she did so enthusiastically, joining in with just as much passion.

 

He’d deal with the whole Nines being framed thing in a bit.

 

Jack was just pleased to have her here.

 

.

 

“Hunters burnt down the mansion?”

 

“Yes, some German or Austrian man. _Rudely_ having the name of Bach.”

 

“Bach? Grünfeld Bach?” Sebastian demanded, frowning at her.

 

“Oh, yes, that’s the name. Something about a society and we’re demons and he doesn’t like you in particular?” Penelope inquired of him, taking what she heard from Ming Xiao.

 

“Society of Leopold, as you can guess, is a group supposedly _tasked_ by their deity in eradicating us. Grünfeld leads it. You saw no one else?”

 

“More of Leopold, but no one I knew.” She didn’t know Ming Xiao at that moment. She was never introduced to the name of anyone but Bach. “I wasn’t about to go further into a burning building to find anyone either. I don’t think many kindred have the skills to survive that. I was trying to find out if the Primogen survived, but the twins who own the Asylum said they knew nothing and I don’t know any other Malkavian living in Los Angeles. He'd dead or gone. Apologies, Prince. I can only hope this information of the Society’s Leader popping up here is at least informative.” She ducked her head.

 

Sebastian pursed his lips, feeling like some angle was wrong for what he wanted from her. “Indeed it is disappointing. The Primogen was an excellent scholar. It is alarming the Society made such an attack, especially Grünfeld himself leading it. Nothing else?”

 

Damn, he really wanted to know about Nines being set up, didn’t he? She shook her head. “No, sir.”

 

“Very well. Go. I shall inform you when I need you.” Sebastian waved her away, thinking he could perhaps use this Society of Leopold and direct them to be organising some sort of attack on the Anarchs, or could pin them killing the Primogen off. He watched her walk away, once again eyeing the piano before leaving. Perhaps he should have questioned her more. But perhaps there was a chance the Kuei-Jin rescinded on their deal. He wouldn’t trust those wretches, but he at least thought they’d keep their word for the time it took the industrious fledgling to finally make her way to the Mansion. He never complained these things took her time time do – all she did and had done was a reflection on him and his benevolence, and he lied to the Camarilla that he told her to sort all these problems out, gaining the respect from them for it.

 

It was a little worrying the time she spent cavorting about with that pirate Brujah, but nothing deeper seemed to come of it. From what he’d gathered and what little hints the Nosferatu Primogen gave, he was something of a mentor to her. At least it wasn't all of the Anarchs; and that Brujah always was known to be a soft touch to the fledglings that popped up in the city.

 

An email came through from Ming Xiao and he read it, scowling.

 

Or perhaps his little assistant was lying to him?

 

No, she said no one she knew. At the time, she _wouldn’t_ have known who Ming Xiao was. Sneaky. He partly approved, even if he mostly disliked it was against him. Teaching her illusions? Only- His head snapped up to look at the door she left. He had a _Ravnos_ in his employ? Those were beyond rare in these days in this part of the world. In return for not saying anything, she must have obtained some skills from the Kuei-Jin. Nothing powerful, he presumed, but what a thing to have under his command.

 

Sebastian ruminated on such an ability.

 

How best to use that?

 

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know next to nothing about classical music, composition and music theory, so don't drag me or @ me plzverymuchlythankyou, haha! I just listen to it. Yes, all said are my favs. Don't know much about Ravel or Debussy but for them being French as with LaCroix one of that nationality... yeah.
> 
> Lăoshī = teacher in Chinese Mandarin (老师).


	4. Doing the Rounds

 

* * *

 

Another lesson from the Kuei-Jin with Ming Xiao who seemed both irritated and pleased at the new girl’s progress, and when waved off, Penelope was back in downtown, fighting off Sabbat.

 

Could anything go nicely?

 

It was enough she talked her way around a snake as slippery as Sebastian LaCroix earlier.

 

With a flare of power, she let the illusion she cast mix with hallucination to have them think one of their own was her and quickly escaped from the Sabbat as they all jumped him, hoping they didn’t pick up on it too soon. There’s no way she could fight over a dozen on one. In no time at all she found her way to The Last Round and came in, dodging Brujah with an illusion once more to go upstairs, looking for Jack. Seeing him not there, she instead found a sofa and slumped onto it, reappearing to the world. She let the sound of what she thought was Elvis trill through the floor and into her head as she relaxed.

 

But it wasn’t long before, “Kid.”

 

Her eyes opened, seeing Nines before her. “Nines.”

 

He frowned at her. “Don’t let the Camarilla get you down.”

 

Penelope closed her eyes again. “Ah, if only it were so easy as that.” More like the life of kindred was beyond frustrating. So high intensity. So political. So _exhausting_.

 

“One of mine saw you disappear from the Sabbat.”

 

“Well, shit.”

 

“If one of mine know, you can bet that Prince does.”

 

Penelope frowned. “That is… troubling. He’s said nothing so far.”

 

“He’s just gonna use you, kid. When you can, get out. Even if it ain’t to us.” Nines advised, sitting next to her.

 

She sat up properly, focusing on him. “I consider myself a free kindred. Though by default that means Anarch apparently. Yet I don’t feel like railing at the man or whatever you guys do. Too busy trying to stay alive.”

 

He snorted at that. “Yeah, the Sabbat have your number. I’ve been hearing it ain’t just LaCroix sending them on you anymore. He stopped that, we found. Well, Smiling Jack did. They’re using you to test themselves. Nothing to do with revenge, kid. You’re now the measuring stick. If they survive against you, they’re accepted. They get a hit on you, they gets an accolade. Congrats, you’re a wanted woman.” He clapped her on the shoulder, and she groaned loudly and slumping back, making him laugh. “Don’t worry, Jack’s been grabbing some of the Brujah and ripping them apart for you.”

 

“For me? How sweet of him,” She chuckled, taking out a flask of blood and sipping.

 

“Well, half you, and half because they’ve been getting too casual with how it is here. We don’t like Cammies, but the Sabbat? Rabid animals that need to be put down, most of them. It’s a way for us to test our mettle, so none of us really mind. We’d get cabin fever otherwise. We’re not strong enough to pull off kicking the Camarilla out, so this will do to settle our spirits.”

 

Penelope tilted her head. “When will you be?” She frowned a little. “Oh, maybe I shouldn’t ask that, still technically working for them. I don’t know when that’ll end. When this Ankaran Sarcophagus business is done?” She questioned, flinging her hands up.

 

“Whenever it is, have back up places to sleep the days away. Any of us will be happy to take you in if you become Anarch considering the Sabbat are on you.” He clapped her on the shoulder.

 

“Hopefully not for long for both things.”

 

.

 

Penelope eyed Beckett the next night in the museum, who was smiling at her, sharp red eyes taking her in critically in return.

 

“Good evening.”

 

“Good evening, fledgling. Come to see the Sarcophagus?”

 

“To obtain it.”

 

“Oh? Want what’s inside?”

 

“No. I do not wish to diablerize.”

 

His nose went, twitching. “Yet you’ve the scent of a darker aura.”

 

“My first day of being a kindred, before I even knew what such a thing was called, I may have nibbled on a half dozen necks or so.” More like twenty but she didn’t keep count. “No Clan to guide me, as you can tell, and I was soon reprimanded,” Penelope replied with a shrug, going around the side of the stand where the box holding the Sarcophagus remained. “You can smell that?” She got a nod. “What a curious talent that is. Does that include humanity levels of a being?”

 

Beckett smiled. “Astute of you. Yes.”

 

Impressed, her brows went up. “Remarkable. And this is Animalism Discipline? I’ll have a goal to work up to then,” Pen thought out loud to herself, fiddling with the box pieces and searching them. Yes, there was a piece of paper stuck to the underneath of the box as she lifted it, taking in the information of what’s inside. She ripped it off for a better look. “Doc Johansson dates it to ancient Sumer or Mesopotamia. It seems a key is what went missing we need to open it. That’s all I need to know then.” She walked away, only to pause by the man who was wanting his hands on the paper. “I didn’t read it fully before you snatched it from me, ever the eager scholar,” She told him, holding it out, and raising a brow, he did so. “Thanks for the plausible deniability.”

 

He chuckled. “You’re very welcome. You’re the Ravnos, yes?”

 

“And you heard such a rumour from…?”

 

“Many places.”

 

“A-Ah,” She stammered out. “That’s not good to be floating around.”

 

The Gangrel took in the words on the paper idly even with his mind focused on her. “The most valuable tools of the Ravnos will be looked into to use.”

 

“Who’s to say I’m Ravnos?”

 

He looked at her at that.  “You deny the rumours?”

 

“Perhaps I figured a few things out instead? There are many papers on receptors of the brain and hormones that incapacitate responses, or overwork them, of how hallucinations work. It’s not hard to experiment.” She smiled, leaving behind an illusion that continued to talk to him about a paper and when she was out of the museum, she let it fade away with an, ‘ _But that’s neither here nor there. Farewell, Beckett._ ’

 

The image of his surprised face made her smile.

 

Then she stilled.

 

Did she just pull a fucking Naruto?

 

Not wanting to see the Prince, and with it still only being about eleven pm, she went to her base and sent an email off to Sebastian LaCroix, detailing the lack of getting the Sarcophagus, sending all the details she could, telling him of Beckett being around and seeming up to look over the Sarcophagus when they retrieved it. She told him it was still early in the night, and if he had any leads, she was ready to be deployed. _Deployed._ Bah. He was sure to like the subservience that word brought.

 

She waited for fifteen minutes, and got an email back, telling her to find the Primogen Nosferatu that had been missing in action, as he was sure to have it, or information on it. Why him, the email didn’t say, but she was told about the Hollywood Baron.

 

Like a good little gopher, she went.

 

Mostly because she wanted to meet with the Baron and this Nosferatu Primogen that looked up to having fun at the Camarilla Prince’s expense.

 

.

 

Penelope vaguely recalled the man before her from her near-execution nearly five weeks ago.

 

Regal looking, well-dressed, had that silver fox thing going on if she thought about it.

 

“Good evening Baron Isaac. I am Penelope, currently on call for the Camarilla.”

 

He eyed her at such openness. “Currently.”

 

Penelope nodded. “I feel until this Sarcophagus business is concluded, my neonate self needs to keep in line and learn what I can. The Camarilla give a decent base.”

 

Isaac nodded. “I’ll give the Camarilla that at least, as long as they _are_ teaching you.” She gave an enigmatic smile to him, giving nothing away, and he scoffed a little. “But, regardless, a rather logical way to go about staying alive, yes. Welcome to Hollywood, Miss Penelope Kirkland. I heard rather good reviews about you in your pre-life. I’d wanted to see a show of yours when I had the chance as business allowed but, hm, the show I went to was your death instead. Perhaps fortunate that you get to be unliving? I’d like to hear your voice.”

 

Her brows rose at each sentence. “If you’ve a piano, I’m willing to play a piece for you?”

 

The man smiled, pleased. “This way.” He guided her into another room, a type of sitting room filled to the brim with instruments, and her heart just about began beating again. She gawked at dozens of violins and violas and fiddles, of clarinets and French Bassoons and flutes on the red distinguished and decorated walls, and she didn’t care Isaac chuckled at her absolute delight when she saw the two pianos and went over to them. She could tell one was less expensive than the other, and couldn’t help be drawn to the more expensive one. Glad she had good taste, he explained, “A Steinway,” and at her nod and hopeful look to him, continued, “Please.”

 

She sitting at it before he finished his sentence, playing a ditty for a few seconds to get the hang of it. “Any requests?”

 

He grinned, leaning against the doorway frame. He loved her passion for music already. For a moment, he pondered, and then requested, “Something by Bernstein.”

 

Penelope laughed (because of course he wanted film music from decades ago) and began to play ‘America’ from _West Side Story_. And then Isaac wanted ‘Shall We Dance’ from _The King and I_ from Rogers and Hammerstein, ‘Singing in the Rain’ from its title-given film, and a newer film song, ‘Razzle Dazzle’ from _Chicago_. She played them all, having done so before. She also dind't mind - if playing music other people liked had them liking her more, she'd use that. Damn right she would, too. Fledgling and all that.

 

“Wonderful! Ah, if only I’d caught you before you became Kindred. I’d have had fun putting you in a musical.” Abrams sighed over missing the chance. “But, onto business. The Nosferatu.” Isaac explained it all, then watched her go, and a few hours later, she’d gone around Hollywood, going into sewers and a cemetery, flirted at by a ghoul that lived to kill zombies, gathered the tape for him and they’d watched it with grim looks. “We need the rest of this tape.” And he also proceeded to tell her of the Gargoyle in the Asian Theatre when she asked about other things to do in this city.

 

“Where on earth did it come from?”

 

“The Tremere’s of course. It is only they who know the secret.”

 

That had her narrowing her eyes. Simply for having Salubri blood she was displeased by being near them Downtown. She wished she could be neutral, but with LaCroix trying to kill her with Sabbat previously whilst being a fledgling with still growing skills, she wasn’t about to trust Tremere when she was still weak. “Tremere’s… I cannot stand them. I shall certainly do this when it’s against them.”

 

“Any reason for such dismissal of such a powerful Clan?” He inquired.

 

Penelope gave the man a hard look. “Yes.” Then she cooled her ire and said indifferently, hands clasping behind her back, “I shall get the tape and deal with the Gargoyle.” A nod, and she left, back stiff.

 

Isaac wondered at that as she left.

 

.

 

With a flick of her hand, and her adrenaline still high, Penelope helped guide the stone beast under illusion through the back streets of Hollywood and into the Jewellers.

 

Isaac widened his eyes.

 

“I will be ally of Hollywood Baron,” The Gargoyle beast growled, the sound rumbling through the store, and then continued in a roar, “Fight the Camarilla, and those wretched Tremere!”

 

Isaac turned the wide-eyed look on Penelope, who merely smiled at him.

 

“I will leave you to it.”

 

“Neonate, you may stay here if you wish?” Isaac said, wanting to bring such a neonate under his wing.

 

She shook her head. “There’s more to do before the night is out. Camarilla do not sleep.” The Gargoyle growl at that in agreement. “Good evening, Baron Abrams.”

 

.

 

Camarilla do not sleep was rubbish.

 

Penelope slumped in the taxi. “Downtown, The Last Round, if you could, mate,” She breathed out, “And make it a long way around, please.”

 

“You work hard, fledgling,” The low baritone of the driver murmured and then noted, “We can, yet we would have to beat the sun.”

 

“The closest star or the Sabbat… Yeah, think I’ll take my chances with Sabbat. Less astronomical.”

 

A chuckle. Then, “A wise decision.”

 

It was quiet for a moment.

 

The woman sat up, laying her front on the chair before her, head tilted onto the headrest. She knew him lower generation for sure. “Is kindred life always so exhausting, sir?”

 

“You’ve had great misfortune in your young undead existence. Yet, life will calm down soon. Let your lover ease your stress, young one.”

 

“He is a wonder to me.” She thought of his cackles, his stories, his protectiveness. “Yes. I do adore him.” A little smile tilted her lips up at the thought of him and his wheezy laugh. His touches. “Ah, is it that well known?”

 

“No. Few know. I am friends with Jack.”

 

That had him in her trust books then. “I am glad he has more of them than just activist Anarchs. Thank you.” She smiled at his nod. “Do you… Do you know if there are any neutral Salubri around?”

 

She could see his eyes turn to her in the mirror. “So that is what I felt. Such a Clan was highly loved at one point. Then the Tremere all but eradicated them with poisonous words. A shame. The Salubri were always the closest to reaching Golconda, the kindest of the Clans for it. They were healers and welcomed all should they need care from such abilities.”

 

“Hippocratic Kindred Oath?”

 

“Of a sort, yes. Jack has spoken to me that you are originally of Ravnos Clan. Your illusions will guide you in healing.”

 

“That was my first thought. But… how does one go about healing what is already dead?”

 

“Are we?”

 

“I feel like a philosophical debate is coming on. Philosophy. Thanks, but I’ll leave that to the French.”

 

It made the man chuckle.

 

“You’re very relaxing to be around, Mr, uh…?”

 

“Driver will do, Miss. I simply drive people to their destination.”

 

“Very backseat for being in the front seat,” Penelope said with a small smile, with it widening as he laughed lowly. “Perhaps that’s the best way to be in life?” She watched the lights pass by as gentle quiet lay in the car, the soft tones of piano music echoing from the radio and sending her to sleep as the vibrations lulled her. “But that’s seems so lonely. I’m, uh… Gonna just… nap.”

 

.

 

“Heh heh, thanks for picking her up, boss.”

 

“Keep her well.”

 

“She been busy?”

 

“Her aura has dimmed.” The driver tilted his head.

 

Knowing the Driver’s thing about looking after lovers and being protective of them, Jack frowned, scooping the woman up into his arms protectively. “Didn’t think it was that bad.”

 

“All are actively still against her. Your actions stay the Sabbat, but do not fully have them abate.”

 

“Damn.” He ducked his head to put his nose to her cheek, taking her scent in. “Low on blood.”

 

“I do not wish to see her until Friday, Jack.” He looked forward, prepared to leave now.

 

His fingers clenched on her form. “I’ll have her rest. Later, Man.” He closed the door with his foot, going into an alleyway and down a manhole. Within minutes he was in his temporary residence, dropping her things to the table, placing her down on the bed and slinging his clothing off to the ground until he was naked so he could feel her skin up against him in bed. Then he took her clothing off, being a lot kinder to them and folding them. He couldn’t care less about his clothing but knew she would of hers; until he saw the rips. Scratches, throbbing and bright, were along her body and he gave a hiss, going over to grab some blood from the mini-fridge, the only chair under his arm, and came back with his own glass of blood in hand. He placed the chair by the side of their bed and sat on it then gently shook her shoulder. “Woman, hey, wake up.”

 

A few seconds, and Penelope blearily opened her eyes. She blinked at naked male but then gave a tired but pleased smile up at him. “Jack. Missed you.”

 

“Missed you too,” He muttered gruffly, not used to showing such sentiments, and pressed into her hands the blood bag. “Drink. I don’t want to see a damn scrape on you.” Brown eyes carefully surveyed as she did, sitting up and drinking the next one he gave over. He was drinking from his own small cup when the last of her cuts went. “That was almost too quick.”

 

“Salubri ability.”

 

Jack snorted, amused. “Yeah, I bet it is.”

 

“Are you okay?” She looked him over critically. Then her lips twitched. “You’re so fuzzy.” She reached out to touch his thigh, stroking down the cool skin and hair. “ _Bear._ ”

 

“Hey,” He argued without any heat, shaking her hand from his knee, but leaned forward, stroking a soft cheek.

 

“The driver is your friend?” Pen asked, curious.

 

“We meet up every once in a while.”

 

“So best friends then?”

 

Jack smirked, setting his cup on the floor and then pushing her down and rolling her away much to her protest. He slipped onto the bed, enjoying the sight of her naked self and roaming a hand over her ass, squeezing a cheek. “This,” He squeezed again and wriggled, making her squeak, “I like this ass of yours, woman.” He liked pretty much all of her, blessed with curves only modern century healthy women could have. Honestly, there was some beauties back in the past so very glorified in legend, but none of them could compare to the average looks of pretty much all women now. So women may not go out of long dresses or wear pure silk and velvet these days, so what? Compared to the health and vitality these women had, modern women were the best.

 

They smelt so much better, lacked so much less disease, and their blood was better quality.

 

And his woman just had him _salivating_ over her form.

 

“You’re dreadful at compliments, bear.”

 

“Oh you are _not_ calling me bear in front of anyone, sweets. It ain’t happenin’.”

 

A cheeky smirk lilted her lips up. “Is it not?”

 

He rolled himself half on her, pinning her to the bed. “Don’t you dare. Gonna ruin my rep, woman.”

 

She grinned as he dragged her closer, snuggling in. “I can’t kiss you in public or anything?”

 

Pleased that she’d want to come out to the general public as something of an item, he shrugged, “I might accept it.”

 

“Might, he says. Psh.” She smiled at his chuckle that rumbled through her. She slunk an arm around his waist, enjoying how big he was against her. She kissed his chest, feeling at peace and protected. “Thanks for dealing with Sabbat, Jack. I’ve been less scared.”

 

“My pleasure killing them dickheads.” He appreciated her words though disliked that she’d been scared. “Hm. They still been on you?”

 

“Less so.”

 

Jack huffed at that. “Guess I’ll just have to have more fun with them.”

 

She hummed at that, stroking his back. “Go wild.”

 

.

 

The next night after relaxing for one and delighting in Jack’s sexual prowess, Penelope was not happy that Jack wanted her to stay another day.

 

“Listen, sweetheart, that tape ain’t going nowhere, and neither is that sarcophagus, wherever it is. And if it does, we’ll track it down. Some dumbass will make a mistake, and we’ll scoop it up and deliver it to your precious Prince.”

 

“I-” She sighed at his look, halting her demands to go anyway. “Just want to get this bloody coffin business out the way, and then I’ll be walking from the Camarilla. I don’t like feeling half-done with things. Sooner the better.”

 

Jack snorted, hands behind head as he lay on blood stained sheets. “And one day ain’t gonna do shit. You think any of these other bastards work as hard as you?” There was still rebellion on her pretty face. It was goddamn cute is what it was, making him smirk at her. “Trust me, I lived here long enough. Now, come here and sit on my face.” He waved her over, holding a hand out, fingers waving her to him impatiently.

 

Knowing she really liked it, Penelope made a half show of grudgingly taking off her t-shirt and bra she’d put on a minute ago for the sake of pride.

 

Smug, he grabbed her by the hips and pulled her to his face. “Ride me, woman.” He demanded, tongue coming out.

 

Penelope had never been so happy as to know the kindred body didn’t ache when blood could be sloshed into her muscle, instantly easing any pains.

 

It really made all day sex _infinitely easier_ than when she was kine.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's not gonna be any shadow clones running about screaming dattebayou, don't worry.
> 
> It's really amusing to go from Anti-Tremere in H&C to Pro-Tremer in Aco.


End file.
